


The Visit

by wocket



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: Sometimes Jen gets a glimpse of her older brother Tim's secretive life. She might be one of the only ones.
Relationships: Tim McVeigh/Mike Fortier
Kudos: 1





	The Visit

Six weeks after Tim McVeigh buys his little block house in Golden Valley, he decides that it’s finally time for his little sister Jennifer to visit.

“I want you to come to Arizona. Hang out for a weekend,” Tim tells Jen the next time they talk, twisting his long fingers in the telephone cord.

“Really?”

Tim was the real traveler of the two of them, and he always came home to Lockport to visit, not the other way around. 

“Yes. Please, Jen.”

“I’ll have to see if I can get off work, and save up for a plane ticket.”

“I’ll buy the ticket,” Tim offers. 

“You have no money,” she reminds him.

“Trust me. I’ll figure it out. You can sleep in my room and I’ll take the couch.” 

“Okay. Thanks. It’ll be so good to catch up, Tim,” she says fondly.

“Can’t wait to see you, sis.”

*

Jen arrives in Arizona a few weeks later. She flies into Phoenix Sky Harbor where Tim picks her up in his little 1987 Spectrum. He parks the car and everything, waiting for her inside so he can carry her bags.

“Tim!” she calls happily when she sees her older brother. He looks the way he always does, skinny figure clad in camo and flannel.

“Hey Jen.” He greets her with a hug, lifting her off the ground until she squeals.

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Jen gushes. “Tim!”

“You look good. You hungry?” Tim asks. 

“I ate on the plane. I kind of want to get settled. Is that okay?”

“Sure. We’ll grab something tomorrow.”

Tim blasts the radio on the drive back to Kingman as Jen inspects the desert landscape, taking in the cacti and rust-colored rocks. She even spies a tumbleweed, to her delight.

“I didn’t know tumbleweeds were _real_ ,” she comments with surprise, making Tim laugh. 

Jen is even happier to see Tim’s little block house. It’s cramped but clean, and she’s happy to see him putting roots someplace. It can’t be good for someone to be on the road that much. “This is great, Tim,” she tells him honestly. 

“My extremely humble abode.”

“Don’t minimize your accomplishments, Tim, you own a house! It’s great.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course! I needed to get away from work anyway, my god.”

Tim watches as she tours the tiny home, taking time to look at almost everything. His house is small, modest, with wooden countertops and minimal furnishings. There’s a brown couch that looks like it came from Goodwill in front of a decent TV, probably the nicest item in the place. The TV stand is filled with VHS tapes of action movies and sci-fi films, stacked neatly next to old copies of _Soldier of Fortune_.

Jen pulls open a cabinet and laughs at Tim’s neatly organized stash of goodies, junk food and Hostess snacks organized cleanly in the cupboard. There are pizza coupons on the counter, tucked in between bottled water and canned food. Despite Tim’s taste in junk food, the house is spotless. 

Tim shows Jen his bedroom. “It's all yours. I changed the sheets this morning.”

“This is sweet, Tim, but will you even fit on the couch?” At 6’2” he was nearly a foot taller than his younger sister. 

“It’s just a couple of days.”

“Okay… Will you show me around tomorrow?”

“Yep. We’re gonna get lunch with Mike, too.”

“Mike? From your COHORT group?”

Tim nods. They’d been close in the Army and were even closer now. Tim’s block house was only a few miles away from Mike’s trailer in Kingman.

“You didn’t tell me he lived out here! Oh Tim, I’m glad you’re not alone.”

“See, I’ve got friends,” Tim tries to prove with a grin.

“You really sure you’ll be okay on the couch?”

Tim smiles ands nods. Even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t say.

*

Jen is her usual bright and bubbly self the next day. Her sparkling attitude is partly why Tim loves her so much. Tim shows her around Kingman, giving her the grand tour, even drives past the hardware store where he works. After showing her the whole town - which doesn’t take long at all - Tim pulls into a greasy spoon diner. His buddy Mike already has a table inside by the window. 

“Jen, this is Mike Fortier.”

With a curious smile, Jen watches him get up and hug her brother, then she gives Mike a hug, too. “Nice to meet you!”

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

Mike slides into the booth and Tim takes a seat beside him. Jen takes the side across from them. Mike stretches his arm along the back of the booth behind Tim’s head as Tim and Jen look at the menu.

“So what’s good?” Jen asks, looking to the boys for advice.

“Steak omelette,” Mike responds, at the same time Tim says “anything but the omelettes.”

Jen grins. 

Jen watches with an amused look as Mike and Tim talk and flirt, pretending like she’s not even there. Jen’s not used to seeing her brother like this with anyone but her. Instead of tight-lipped and serious, he’s free and silly and funny. She tries not to look astonished. It’s a good thing.

“So are you still in school, Jen?” Mike asks, finally pulling his attention away from Tim.

“Graduated last year. Just started college at Buffalo State.”

“Good for you. Didn’t want to be an Army brat like this one?”

Tim rolls his eyes. 

“No sir. That doesn’t interest me. I want to be a teacher.”

“Well, that’s a completely different war,” Mike laughs. “You want to teach little kids? Or what?”

“I’m not sure. English literature, maybe, or writing.”

“Nice.”

“Besides, Tim is the soldier of the family,” she says proudly, even though she knew he was growing steadily more disillusioned with the military. “I hear he was pretty good.”

Mike smiles proudly. “The best.”

“Yeah yeah,” Tim blows it off, humble.

“Seriously, though, you were. Better than me, that’s for sure.”

“Thanks,” Tim finally relents. Under the table, he bumps Mike’s knee.

“Do you ever miss it, Tim?” Jen asks.

Something dark flashes in Tim’s eyes. Tim shakes his head, holding himself back. He supports the Army less and less these days. “You think I’m crazy?” Tim sneers. “I’m not some mindless peon,” he says defensively.

“Okay, I get it,” Jen relents, before he starts off on another one of his rants. “We get it.”

Mike leads the conversation back to school. “I’ve been working on a degree myself. Part-time, though. Very part-time,” Mike admits.

“Good for you,” Jen replies.

Lunch is fun, and though the meal is mediocre, Jen enjoys watching her brother interact in this different environment. She likes watching the way Tim and Mike work together, the subtle way they communicate. The three of them talk about school, movies, sports. Jen gives Tim an update on their dad back in New York.

Jen finally asks _why Arizona_ , and Tim gives some non-committal answer about nuclear-free zones. Jen watches the way Mike watches Tim, the way he’s always checking in with him, watching him for a reaction.

Tim, with his endless stomach, orders a slice of pie for dessert. Jen runs to the bathroom, amused by what she sees when she comes back to the table. Her brother is trying to feed his friend a bite of apple pie.

Mike accepts it less than gracefully, leaving some of the filling on his cheek. Tim wipes it away for him, licking it off his thumb.

Jen takes her seat but they hardly notice her, stuck in their own world. After a minute she coughs, bringing them back to reality. “Looks like you enjoyed the pie,” Jen says innocently.

Tim clears his throat. He steeples his fingers in front of his face. 

Thankfully, the waitress stops by at that moment, breaking the spell of awkwardness. Tim pays the entire bill.

“Thank you, Tim, but please don’t bankrupt yourself for me.” 

He shushes her. “I want you to have a good time.”

“Thanks, bro.” 

Mike lights a cigarette when they step outside. He offers one to Jen, who takes one despite Tim's judgmental eye. 

Mike chuckles. Tim elbows him. 

“See you later?” Mike asks, cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Tim nods and gives him a side-hug. "You got it."

“Well, that was nice,” Jen says on the drive back to Tim’s. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing somebody,” she continues.

Tim’s foot catches on the brake as he almost hits another car. “What,” he says, alarmed, his normally pale face turning white. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating someone.”

Tim swallows. “You mean Mike?”

Jen nods, curly hair bouncing. 

“I’m not gay,” he tells her, staring at the road.

“Yeah, I know,” Jen says, matter-of-fact. “You’re bisexual.”

Tim’s knuckles on the steering wheel are whiter than his face. Are they really having this conversation right now? This is crazy. “The fuck, Jen?”

“What, you think I don’t notice these things? I’m your sister!”

“Oh my god,” Tim mumbles.

She crosses her arms. “I like him,” she says. More than any of the guys she remembers Tim fooling around with in high school. He probably doesn’t think she noticed any of _that_ , either.

Tim looks at her instead of the road. Then he sighs. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Jen laughs. 

“You’re a good sister,” he says, serious in that way he gets. 

“Oookay.” She looks out the window. “How long have you been together?”

“Do we have to talk about this? It’s complicated.”

“No. Of course not.” Jen picks another topic, talks about her college classes instead.

Tim listens dutifully. He hadn’t really considered college. Maybe for a minute. He’d always thought of the military as his best option. It sounds like a good fit for Jen though, she’s so much more social than Tim. 

“You don’t have to hide shit from me,” she tells him after a long lull in the conversation.

Tim’s not sure about it. Maybe still raw from being unable to trust his mother after she bailed. Tim knows Jen’s not like that but it’s hard to justify.

“Sometimes it’s easier that way.”

“I know.”

Tim changes the subject. “How about a ride on Route 66?”

“I’ll do anything you want, Tim, I’m just happy to see you.” He reaches over and fluffs her hair. “Tim! I take it back.”

Their laughter fills the car. It’s like the old days - maybe not a better time but a different one.

Tim drives Jen out to old Camp Beale, where she looks out the window with interest as Tim narrates. “The camp was established in the 1870s, but before that it had been used by Native Americans.” 

“You’re such a nerd, Tim.”

“It’s not nerdy to want to know the story behind a place and to understand its historical significance,” Tim defends himself.

“Whatever. I love it,” Jen giggles. 

“Can I finish the tour?”

“Go on.”

“You ever heard of the United States Camel Corp?”

“I’m sorry, the _what_?”

“The U.S. Camel Corps. In the mid 1850s the U.S. Army experimented with camels. They used them as pack animals, and for mail, but they got rid of them after about ten years. Sold ‘em all at auction.”

“You know the weirdest stuff, Tim.”

“Somebody’s got to do it.”

Jen laughs but listens to Tim ramble on about old Camp Beale and the Camel Corps. He’s a wealth of knowledge, with a mind for details. She cranks the window down as he talks and rests her arm on the door. She tilts her face into the sun, soaking up the rays.

Tim turns up the stereo after he finishes barraging Jen with trivia, some track by Queen Jen half-recognizes.

“So I don’t really have any food at my house. We should go by Walmart.”

They stop at the grocery store on the way back to Tim’s place. Jen laughs at everything Tim picks out, frozen dinners and Eggo waffles and ice cream. “This cannot be all you eat,” she mocks, pointing at the contents of his cart.

“Be nice. Did you forget this is on my tab?”

“I don’t know how you stay that skinny with all the crap you eat.” Jennifer puts a thing of broccoli into the cart and Tim grimaces. “You remember grocery shopping with Dad when we were kids?” she asks, mostly to distract him from her attempt to grab asparagus.

“You always got to ride in the cart. I had to walk beside it, hand on the cart, every time.”

“Huh. I guess you’re right,” Jen realizes. Tim used to wander through the store until their dad made him keep one hand on the cart at all times.

Tim lets Jen pick out whatever she wants, putting everything on his credit card. The trip makes them both unexpectedly nostalgic.

“So you like it here?” Jen asks on the drive back to Tim’s place. Tim was always chasing something. Searching. Where Jen found comfort building a home in one place, Tim felt at ease on the road.

“It’s as good a spot as any,” comes his puzzling answer.

*

The next morning, Tim and Jen get coffee and go by Hastings Video, wandering through the aisles offering each other movie reviews. Unable to agree on a selection, they both pick two movies and choose to let Mike be the tiebreaker. 

Mike agrees to come over to hang out for a movie later that night, popping into Tim’s house with a familiarity that Jen finds interesting. Jen’s delighted. She likes him, first of all, and likes observing the two of them even better. 

She watches them pour drinks and chat. He’ll still veer into angry territory, but Mike tempers him. She likes seeing her brother smile. She’s not used to seeing Tim so relaxed. It’s unusual but in a good way. He wasn’t like this growing up.

“Jen, what do you want to drink?”

“I don’t know. Tim, you know I’m not old enough.”

“I’ll make you something,” Mike offers. 

Tim carries snacks into the living room. “Dinner is served.” He takes a seat beside Jen, leaving room for Mike beside him. Mike steps in front of them a minute later, hands full of alcoholic beverages.

“I hope this is halfway okay. I’m not a big drinker. Prefer to smoke.”

“Oh, that’s funny. Surprised you and Tim get along.”

Mike smirks. Tim and Mike look at each other, guilty. 

“He doesn’t smoke!” Jen exclaims.

Mike has a big grin on his face. Tim pleads the fifth. 

Jen puts her hands up. “I don’t want to know. Just start the movie.”

Tim hunts through the cracks in the couch for the remote control.

Halfway through the movie, Tim’s body language relaxes, and he sinks against Mike’s side. Mike looks a little surprised, looking back and forth between Tim and Jen dubiously, but Tim seems cool with it so Mike wraps his arm around Tim’s shoulders. Next to each other, Tim and Mike get comfy on the couch, enjoying the movie.

Jen feels trusted, special that Tim would let her see this. She returns her attention to the screen until the credits roll, and the boys make no effort to get up. Jen takes that as her cue. The VCR starts playing static and she stands up, stretching her arms. 

Jen pauses in Tim’s doorway to turn around and say goodnight. When she does, she sees Tim link his fingers with Mike’s. It’s a casual gesture, but one that she can’t miss.

“Goodnight,” she smiles.

“Night, Jen,” they say at the same time. She closes the door and leaves them to their own devices.

Jen can hear giggling through the door, stupid little sounds coming from two grown men. She leans back against the door, trying to overhear the situation, listening carefully.

She hears rustling and a moan and - oh god, she hopes that’s not her brother. 

“Mike!” Jen hears Tim hiss. “My little sister is in the other room!”

“She can’t hear us,” Mike retorts playfully, and Jen covers her mouth, eyes wide. “Come on.”

“ _No_ ,” she hears, and then a thump, followed by someone muttering. It sounded like one of them had fallen - or had been pushed - off the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she hears Tim say, and then there’s silence. Must be more kissing. 

“Okay, okay,” Mike relents. “God. You owe me.”

“Wait until my sister’s gone. It’s just a few days. I’ll blow your mind.”

“Forget about that, just blow me.”

“I swear she can hear you.”

“Fine. I’m leaving. Come here.”

Jen hears them kiss again, hears her brother sigh.

“I’ll see you this weekend,” he promises.

“Okay, McFly.”

She hears Tim let Mike out the front door, locking it behind him. 

Well, that was unexpected.

*

The bright Arizona sun wakes Jen the next morning, light creeping in through the edges of Tim’s makeshift blinds. From her place in bed, Jen glances over Tim’s bookshelf. _The Turner Diaries, 1984, Warrior Dreams, This Thing of Darkness_ … books on the Civil War, military history, weapons - Jen’s never heard of half of them.

Jen investigates the bedside table and finds a collection of letters. She recognizes an envelope with her own return address on it and keeps flipping through the stack, recognizing address after address, all of the places Tim’s kept a base over the last few years.

Jen thumbs through the letters, noticing there are just as many from Mike as there are from her. They must be even closer than Jen thought. She picks one to read, curiously, unfolding it, ignoring the drawings and diagrams in the drawer in favor of the correspondence. The letter is from three years ago, when Tim was stationed overseas during Desert Storm. It’s got Mike’s return address on it. It’s not like her to snoop, but Tim’s been so distant lately. Things had changed after his deployment. Sometimes he felt like a stranger and not her own brother.

Jen gets halfway through Mike’s letter before she starts to feel like she’s crossed a line and is in the midst of something extremely personal. 

_Tim,_

_You’ve been gone for almost three months now. I think about you all the time. Behind the wheel of my car, in the grocery store, at the bank. I can’t get you out my head. I thought it was a good thing to not be deployed. I didn’t know what it would mean to not be with you. I’m here, feeling guilty while you’re saving lives. That’s so fucked up. I wish I had been able to say the things I should have said, before. You know what I should have said. I can’t —_

_I’m no good at this._

_Are you okay? Please, tell me how you’re doing._

_Yours,  
Mike_

The door to Tim’s bedroom swings open as Jen is mid-letter. She almost drops the paper. 

“What are you doing?” he accuses, panicked when he spies the open drawer, papers spilling out, letter in her hand.

“I’m sorry, I -”

“What the hell, Jennifer?” Tim darts forward and snatches the letter from her fingers. “This is private.” Paranoid, his face starts turning red. “What else did you see?” Tim asks. Tim stuffs the letter back in the drawer, sliding it back into a stack of papers that includes a drawing of sixteen numbered circles representing 55-gallon drums (among other plans). Things not meant for his little sister’s eyes.

“Nothing, I swear! I’m sorry, Tim!”

Tim seethes, slamming the drawer shut.

“Calm down,” Jen whispers. “Tim, you don’t have to hide from me.” She can see the tension in his shoulders, in the way he carries himself.

The foot of space between them has never seemed larger.

“You don’t understand. I do what I have to do.” Tim stares at his sister, maddened, unsure of what she’s seen. 

Jen shakes her head, quieter, resigned. “Okay, Tim. Whatever you say.”

“Goddamnit.” Tim storms away.

Jen gives Tim time to cool off before she goes looking for him. He can’t be far, the house is too tiny for that. She pokes her head out the front door when she can’t find him in the house. He’s sitting on the bumper of his car in the driveway. She’s surprised he made it that far but didn’t drive off; it would be so like him to hop right in his car and run.

Jen stands in front of the car. “Please don’t be mad at me,” Jen begs her brother.

Tim frowns. His face is still red, his brow furrowed. “I’m not mad.” 

“You look mad.”

“Everybody always wants to tell me how I look.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it —” 

“What did you see, Jen? I need you to tell me what you saw.”

“Just Mike’s letter. I swear.” 

“Is that all?” He doesn’t look like he believes her.

“What don’t you want me to see, Tim?” Jen asks, concerned.

Tim looks at the ground. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Tim finally says, stoic. 

“I already told you that you don’t have to hide anything from me.” Jen crosses her arms over her chest.

“I wish it were that simple,” Tim tells her, shaking his head. He looks down the street, like he’s wary that someone might be listening to this very conversation. “There’s a lot you can’t know. For your own protection.” Tim sighs. “You have no idea.”

“Are you in trouble?” Jen climbs up on the trunk next to Tim when he doesn’t answer. “Your life isn’t a movie, Tim.”

Tim smirks, but he starts to calm down.

“I’m supposed to fly back to New York in the morning. I don’t want to leave things like this,” Jen says softly.

Tim looks up, surprised, like he’s forgotten she has to go home at some point. “No,” he admits, agreeing with her. That’d be too much like his mother. 

Jen leans her head against his shoulder. They sit in silence, Jen oblivious to the things she’s forbidden to know about the plans for a 7,000-pound explosive tucked in between the pages of Tim’s important documents.

The things she doesn’t know can’t hurt her — yet.


End file.
